slip off the diamond life
by salty nap princess
Summary: "Girl, are you still zombified?" "No, I just think that Chloé does have a heart, she just doesn't know how to use it. But, if we set a positive example, then maybe Chloé can change and learn to help other people?" – Chloé-centric


**Notes 1:** If you're going to leave a comment of how Chloé is more interesting or complex than Mari, **leave**. You can just say Chloé is interesting and complex without comparing her to Mari. There's no need to come to my fic and spill tea.

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 **slip off the diamond life**

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"Mommy," Five year old Chloé says, she's small and hurt and sad as she turns to her mother to save the day. She has tears in her big blue eyes and her lower lip is trembling.

"What is it, my darling? Why are you crying?" Her mother's gentle voice asks.

"That boy over there stole Mr Cuddles from me." Chloé says, small hands bunching up the hem of her skirt as she stands there defenceless.

It takes less than a second for her mother to turn from gentle to angry. A furious look strikes itself on Audrey Bourgeois's face. "Where?" The older woman asks before she steps away from her daughter and saunter over to the boy Chloé had pointed too.

Chloé watches from afar, still teary eyed as her mother sends the boy a death stare. Audrey Bourgeois doesn't even open her mouth to say anything. Not to spit or utter any venomous words. No scolding or lashing out. Just a deadly look as the older woman holds her hand out and expects the boy to return the teddy bear back to her. And he does, after nearly soiling his pants.

"Thank you, Mommy." Chloé smiles, hands outstretched to reach for her favourite teddy bear. However, Chloé doesn't receive a warm answer in reply. Oh, no no _no_. Instead, she receives the same hard look her mother gave to the boy.

"Don't let that boy threat you like that _ever_ again." Her mother snaps, holding Chloé's Mr Cuddles hostage.

At that moment, Chloé felt like crying all over again. "I won't. I'm sorry, I only thought it was nice to share my toys with him but then he wouldn't give Mr Cuddles back!"

"Nice?" Audrey echoes, still holding the teddy bear. She's **beyond** angry.

"You're hurting Mr Cuddles!" Chloé pleads. "You're holding him too tight!"

But, Audrey Bourgeois doesn't – _won't_ – give the bear back until it sinks into Chloé's head that _nice people_ finish last and power is **everything**. " _Listen to me_." Audrey demands. "You are Chloé Bourgeois. Your father is the Mayor of Paris, a very important person with power. And for someone to stay in power, they have to maintain their image of being important."

"Mommy?" Chloé blinks, not understanding the value of her mother's lecture.

"You can't let anyone bully you, Chloé." Audrey Bourgeois states, now holding out Mr Cuddles towards Chloé. "Do you understand? You **can't** let anyone take advantage of you. I can't always be here to save you. Most of the time, you have to save yourself."

"And how do I do that?" Chloé asks, now holding her stuffed toy close to her chest.

"You step on them first before they step on you."

;;

"You're so nice, Adrikins." Chloé says, ten and practically half an orphan now that her mother has chosen to disappear out of her and her Daddy's life.

"Thanks," Adrien says, smiling toothily. "And you're fun. I'm glad you're my friend, Chloé."

"I'm your _only_ friend." Chloé states. She knows she's just a kid but even she knows how lonely Adrien is, being homeschooled and all. At least, Chloé has Sabrina to play with when their fathers have to talk about matters of Paris's law.

"I guess," Adrien shrugs and watches Chloé hold onto Mr Cuddles in a tense manner. There's a sudden blanket of silence over them and Adrien can tell Chloé wants to say something to him.

"Adrikins?" – There it is.

"Yeah?" Adrien answers, looking at his one and only friend in the eyes.

"You shouldn't be so nice." She says, all serious.

"Why?"

"Mommy says nice people get stepped on easily."

Adrien bites the inside of his cheek. "I thought you said you don't care about what your mommy says."

"I don't." Chloé lies, but even Adrien knows this, he can see her eyes brimming. "But I'm your _only_ friend and sometimes I can't protect you so I don't want you getting hurt."

A soft smile curves on Adrien's face. Chloé can be a … 'brat' at times but she still has a heart somewhere. It's just … hardened after all the 'disappearing mother' mess. "Don't worry, Chloé. You don't have to protect me."

"You can't say that when you know everyone gets hurt," She says.

(Oh, and what a sad true that it is)

;;

Chloé remembers being thirteen and pleading with all her heart a string of _please, please, please_ like it was her new mantra, like her life depended on it.

 **Are you okay, Adrikins?** Chloé asks via text, staring at her screen.

Chloé's just discovered that Emilie Agreste had up and left the Agreste household just like how Chloé's mother had left _her._ It's History repeating itself yet again (except Chloé had watched her mother walk away while Adrien's mother had disappeared without a trace).

 _Please answer me._ Chloé chants in her head. _Please please please._

Her hands are practically tremblying as Chloé considers sending another text. Time is ticking by _so slowly_ and Chloé is drowning in emotion. She _can't believe_ this is happening. Chloé remembers how she felt when her mother walked out of her life, she remembers being sad and confused, angry and heartbroken, and there's **no way** Chloé's going to let Adrien feel that way too. At least, not without a shoulder to lean on.

Chloé wants to help, she wants to do _something_ and prove herself useful. Even if it's something small like being there for Adrien to spill all his worries too. Even if they just end up in a puddle of snot and tears.

Chloé knows a lot of people have stereotyped her as a dumb blonde brat but she actually knows a lot of things. Like how she can rely on her loving father to be comforted and how she can comfort him back. Like how Mr Agreste always did reserve his heart for a small pool of people. And how Adrien doesn't have _anyone_ to turn to.

 **I'm coming over and there's nothing you can do or say to stop me.** Is the final text Chloé sends to Adrien as she races out of her house and into the late Parisian night like a mad woman.

;;

Chloé knows she's snobby.

 _Of course,_ she does.

She's grown up surrounded by snooty people; she's learned to walk like them, talk like them, present herself like them. Harden people, strong people, people with power at their fingertips.

She puts up this act because Chloé knows that _no one_ likes someone who's 'easy'. The kind of person who becomes an easy target, who gets pushed over and stepped on and laughed in the face (not even worthy enough to get talked behind their backs).

And _that_ kind of person is not someone Chloé wants to be. So she builds up walls, makes difficult demands. She remembers Daddy once said, if someone **really** wants to _impress_ her and get on her _good side_ (yes, she has one), then they'd make an effort to strip her walls down, listen to her requests and keep up with her demands. It's all about being a people pleaser. It's all about pleasing _her._

If they're not willing to put in effort then … why bother to invest in someone at all? It's all just a waste of time.

;;

When Adrien started schooling at Françoise Dupont High School, Chloé felt immediately protective of him. And it wasn't 'just because' she was his _one and only friend_. It was also because she had fallen in love with him.

Yes, _fallen in love_. She has a heart too, you know (despite not really knowing how to use it).

In her head, she and Adrien made **a lot** of sense. They just so much _common ground_ ; they grew up on the same grounds and stood on the same ground – higher up. They're both devoted fans of Ladybug (though Chloé considers herself to be Ladybug's number one fan). They both share the same pain of losing their mothers (and nobody _but them_ could **ever** understand how that feels like).

So when Chloé discovers a possibility of her archnemesis possibly being with **her** Adrikins, Chloé felt like she was constantly in the state to fly off the handle. _Always_ sour, _always_ bitter, _always_ in a bad mood. She honestly can't remember the last time she smiled sincerely.

"Thank you so much for lending me your sewing kit, Marinette!" Rose says, smiling at Marientte with a big grin. There's smiles all around but Chloé feels like vomiting at how sickening sweet Marinette is.

Chloé sneers at Marinette's direct. In the blonde's mind, Marinette is **nothing** but someone who can't amount to much except being a dreamer and a fool.

Yet, _everyone_ seems to **love** Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Marinette who's clumsy, who trips and ruins her clothes with dirt; who looks like a whirlwind of a mess due to her constant lateness when she bulldozes through the school grounds to get to class on time, who can't _even_ keep her manicure perfect – calloused hands and fingers covered with band-aids from all the sewing and clothes-making.

Marinette is nice to everyone, she treats everyone equally and Chloé **doesn'** t get it. She really doesn't, why bother to? It's not like all of her classmates are beneficial. Rose cries too easily, Juleka can barely be heard with her soft-spoken voice, Kim's got a complex when it comes to competitions, Alix has a temper and Alya can't keep a secret to herself if her life depends on it.

So why waste her time with all these people who _can_ and _will_ drag her down?

;;

Turning to her locker mirror, Chloé smoothens her blue eyeshadow with her finger; blending it, hoping the gesture would make her equally blue eyes pop. No one _ever_ notices her efforts. Not her flawless make-up or her carefully selected wardrobe or her glossy, without-a-flyaway hair.

Chloé **doesn't** understand. She's perfect! She's got the looks, she's got the clothes, she's got the money. _The status_ and _the power_. She's got **everything**!

So why aren't her classmates falling to her feet? Why aren't they inviting her to their parties or asking her to hang out after school or even offering to sit with her during lunch? Isn't that how it works in the movies? Doesn't the rich, blonde mean girl get everything she can get her hands on _and more_?

"Do you notice anything different about me, Sabrina?" Chloé asks, hoping to get a reaction from her ginger friend.

Sabrina blinks behind her glasses, trying to spot something out of the ordinary. She stammers an uncertain, "... No?"

Chloé suppresses her anger. _No one_ ever notices. Not even Sabrina, Chloé's best and arguably only _willing_ friend.

"Do you want me to say 'yes'?" Sabrina asks, worried she had messed up. "Is it your hair? Did you do something different with it?"

Sighing, Chloé slams her locker shut. "Never mind. It's nothing," She grounds.

"I – I'm sorry," Sabrina squeaks but Chloé's already stalking off so the apology falls deaf to her ears.

;;

"That girl is worse than Hawkmoth!" Alya accuses as a frown finds itself pressed against her mouth.

"At least half of the city has gotten akumatized because of her!'" Alix yells, enraged.

And with the pointed finger comes the stares. The whole class is against her. Of course, they're on Marinette's side. **Always** on sweet, nice Marinette's side. Never on hers, _never_ on Chloé's.

A wave of emotion crashes on the blonde girl, she feels _just like_ the boy from ten years ago, having an acused finger pointed at her direction.

Chloé looks away because – yes, it's true. She can't even count with one hand the number of times she's caused Paris to go to havoc. That was just how many incidents there have been.

For a split second, Chloé let's herself think negatively of herself. What kind of person is she? Ruining the city her father is working so hard to run? But _only_ for a second before she scoffs and rolls her blue eyes at the pointed glares of her classmates and, Alya and Alix's words.

She's **not** going to let these 'wannabes' get under her skin and hurt her with their words (even if their words were true).

.

.

.

"Chloé Bourgeois?!" A new akumatized villain asks, hoping on the teacher's desk and striking a pose. The villain has pale grey-blue skin and dark lipstick.

"Who are you?!" Chloé shrieks with fear.

"Zombizou!" The villain says but it's clear that it's Miss Bustier behind the getup.

And for some reason, the only thing Chloé can hear is a small voice at the back of her head saying, 'This is all your fault – again'.

.

.

.

The number of people who sacrifice themselves to save her is _too_ much. Chloé doesn't understand it, _can't_ understand it. Why were her classmates doing this? Why were they willing to get zombified for her? Why bother? Why –

Chloé concludes that they were all _too_ nice for their own good.

.

.

.

Ladybug feels her heart thumping loudly in her chest and time moving in slow motion. She's outnumbered and trapped and yet _again_ fighting her mind-controlled superhero partner.

Zombified Chat Noir races towards her; puckering his lips and claws reaching out to snatch her miraculous.

Closing her eyes and bracing for the end of the world, Ladybug thinks it's _game over_. Game over –

That is, until Chloé does the unexpected and throws herself in front of Ladybug.

"Chloé!" Ladybug yells. She knows Chloé has always been spoiled and rude but no one deserves to turn into a mindless zombie. _No one._

"It's okay," Chloé says, a fearful quiver in her voice though she doesn't show it. Her back is facing Ladybug and she's holding Chat Noir tight tight _tight_ so that her sacrifice is justified. "I'll be alright, Ladybug. Go save Paris."

"Thank you for saving me." And with that, Ladybug does everything in her power to make sure she (and perhaps even Chloé) can continue helping others.

.

.

.

"But, I hurt a lot of people." Miss Bustier says, sadden at the aftermath of Zombizou as she sits on the top of the Eiffel Tower with Paris's superheroes Ladybug and Chat Noir.

"No, I did." Chloé steps in, shoulders back and pride swallowed down her throat. "I forgot your birthday once again and … when I had saw that everyone had prepared a gift for you, I totally lost it because I too would have liked to offer you something." Chloé blinks back her wet eyes, not wanting to ruin her eye make-up. "I'm sorry, Miss Bustier."

A soft hand touches Chloé's shoulder before Miss Bustier speaks up, "Thank you, Chloé." The older woman says, something that isn't said often. Especially since the words 'thank you' and 'Chloé' doesn't seem like they'll _ever_ fit into the same sentence. "Those words are the best possible gift you could have ever give me."

And with that, Miss Bustier embraces Chloé in a hug. And for a moment _, just a moment_ , Chloé allows herself to be soft, hugging her teacher back while Ladybug and Chat Noir exchange a look. Something shines behind Ladybug's blue eyes.

…

"Girl, are you still zombified?" Alya asks, puzzled by Marinette's 180 turn around, as they scoot back into their seats.

Marinette only laughs. "No, I just think that Chloé _does_ have a heart, she just doesn't know how to use it. But, if we set a positive example, then maybe Chloé can change and learn to help other people?"

"Whaaat?" Alya exasperates but Marinette only laughs again and turns her best friend's head towards Chloé who's standing before Miss Bustier.

"This is ... for you," Chloé says as she presents her teacher's gift in a black box with a golden outline. She says these words slowly like she's trying to process things.

"You didn't have to, Chloé." Miss Bustier says, green eyes softening as she accepts the gift.

"I wanted to." The blonde girl replies. She's ... being nice, for once.

Maybe this ... niceness isn't so bad after all?

;;

"What's this?" Chloé ends up asking aloud, palms occupied with box that holds a comb – golden and beautiful with a bee in the centre.

She's alone in her room, surrounded by designer brands and silk sheets and a wooden box that _was_ placed on the center of her make-up drawer. But who could it have been from? It looks too tacky to be something her Daddy would give her.

Attached to the wooden box that encased the bee comb, is a note that reads, **With this, you can help anyone. You can help the whole of Paris.**

Chloé feels her heart drop to her toes, she's overwhelmed.

Despite the comb looking elegant and being a brilliant accessory to her look, Chloé doesn't dare touch it. Instead, she's sceptic. She closes the wooden box with a light snap and puts it to the furthest part of her make-up drawer. She doesn't think she's ready to help anyone, much less the whole of Paris.

;;

A week after Miss Bustier's birthday, Chloé remembers getting her Daddy to stop popstar Nightingale's music video shoot; on the accounts that Minister what's-his-face-position says so, according to permit A38 of whatever B65 of City Hall.

"I – I don't understand." Nightingale says, blinking her brown confused eyes at Mayor Bourgeois's words.

But Chloé doesn't give Nightingale a moment to process her Daddy's words at all. Instead, Chloé rips the microphone from the popstar's hand.

"It means; no more dancing, no more singing today so Nightingale can just spread her wings and fly away!" Chloé utters meanly, relentless as she throws the mic into the air and watches it break as it falls to the ground.

"No!" Nightingale cries as she races to catch her microphone, but it's too late.

Not that Chloé notices though. She's too busy gloating at her rhyme to realize she's done something hurtful again. And in return, Marinette and her classmates' faces twist with anger and disappointment.

Marinette feels her first clench at the sight of Chloé breaking the idol's heart and being the source of yet _another_ akumatized victim. Marinette was _wrong_ , Chloé _can't_ change. Chloé Bourgeois will **never** learn. She'll never see the errors of her mistakes. Not today, _not ever_. And for this, Chloé will pay dearly with the loss of an opportunity.

.

.

.

"Jean Paul!"

Chloé remembers yelling as she rummages through her make-up drawer, sweeping aside eyeshadow pallets and various shades of lipstick and blush. There's bobby pins on the floor and fallen eyeliner sticks by her feet.

"Jean Claude!" She yells louder for her butler, her voice echoing through the room along with the house.

"Yes, Mademoiselle Chloé?" Jean answers after knocking on her door and opening it.

"Have you seen a wooden box?" Chloé asks, turning away from the mess of products.

Jean blinks in response. "No, Mademoiselle, you know I don't touch your things without your permission."

Chloé snarls under her breath before flicking her hand to send her butler off. "Ugh, you can't do anything ri –" She doesn't dare finish her words. "Just go away!"

And with that, Jean exits the room and Chloé is once again alone. But, before Chloé gets a chance to dramatically fall on her bed like a _Disney_ princess and cuddle with her teddy bear, she spots a new note, now wedged between the small space of the make-up drawer's mirror.

Chloé knows it _shouldn't_ have hurt to read these words. Especially since it came from a stranger who left a foreign object in her room, but regardless, Chloé feels her stomach drops to her toes and her heart leaps to her throat. She feels despair, like she's just lost something important, like the day her mother left her.

At eye-level, the note reads in the same handwriting: **I was wrong, you aren't fit to help anyone but yourself.**

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 **end**

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 **Notes 2:** I hate this analysis because I don't think it's good enough but meh. And, oh look, another mean girl analysis, wowie!

– **20 May 2018**


End file.
